


the furthest constellations

by extasiswings



Category: The X-Files
Genre: (mostly), Alternate Universe - Daemons, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Gen, MSR, Partners to Lovers, Season/Series 01, Season/Series 02, Severing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-22
Updated: 2015-11-22
Packaged: 2018-05-01 02:02:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5187926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/extasiswings/pseuds/extasiswings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I like her," Sylvie murmurs in the dark. "Try not to scare this one off."</p><p>"Don't know what you're talking about," Mulder replies, reaching a hand out to scratch behind her ears. </p><p>A few minutes later when Scully knocks on his door worried over a few mosquito bites, he doesn't even hesitate before asking her to stay. When he tells her about Samantha (not Sylvie though, never Sylvie because that's for her to show or tell, not him) he closes his eyes and ignores Sylvie's knowing stare. </p><p>[AKA: The daemon AU that was necessary for reasons]</p>
            </blockquote>





	the furthest constellations

**Author's Note:**

  * For [shuofthewind](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shuofthewind/gifts).



When Dana Scully first joined the FBI, many of the field agents took one look at the small Yorkshire terrier daemon following at her heels and dismissed her out of hand. It was obnoxious but both she and Alastair took it in stride and well, she hadn’t been wedded to the idea of being a field agent anyway. Once she started teaching at the academy, it wasn’t as much of an issue.

Today though, she walks through the halls and feels almost exactly as she had when she’d first started, although the looks she gets when she passes are less dismissive and more pitying. It’s irritating. Confusing too, but mostly irritating. The reason for the looks click as soon as she gets into the meeting with the directors and they tell her about her new assignment. The X-Files. Unexplained phenomena. Not exactly a winning field assignment.

(Then again, working with Fox Mulder had the potential to be an incredible learning experience, X-Files or not)

"Sorry, no one down here but the FBI's most unwanted," a voice calls when Scully knocks on the door. She steps into the office anyway.

 _His daemon is gorgeous_ , that's her first thought. At least, she's assuming the snow fox laying on the edge of the desk is his daemon. Her next thought, after taking in the posters and the rest of the cluttered basement office is, _what have I gotten myself into?_

"Agent Mulder,” she greets, extending her hand to him. “I'm Dana Scully. I've been assigned to work with you."

"Oh, isn’t it nice to suddenly be so highly regarded. So, who'd you tick off to get stuck with this detail, Scully?" His acerbic tone catches her off-guard. She’d known he worked alone but she hadn’t considered that maybe he preferred it that way. Even if she had, she wouldn’t have expected he would be so…biting.

(Although, working in a basement office alone on cases no one else takes seriously probably doesn’t lend itself readily to trust)

Pressing her lips together, Scully bites back the immediate, _Excuse me_ , that threatens to come out.

"Actually I’m looking forward to working with you,” she says instead. “I’ve heard a lot about you."

It doesn’t help.

“Oh really? I was under the impression that you were sent to spy on me.”

She’s about to respond with a defense of her credentials when the daemon on the desk bites Mulder’s finger and levels him with a stern look.

“Be nice, Fox,” she warns.

“Sylvie—" The daemon’s stare doesn’t waver and he clenches his jaw and grumbles something under his breath before turning back to her.

“How do you feel about the existence of extraterrestrial life, Agent Scully?”

 _What have I gotten myself into_ , indeed.

 

The thing about the first case is that it’s mostly a test. That’s not to say it wasn’t on Mulder’s radar before he found out he was getting a partner to “assess the validity of the work,” but after reading Agent Scully’s credentials, it certainly bumped up a few spaces on the list of potential investigations.

If Scully realizes that though, she doesn’t say anything. Instead, she comes to the work with a desire to find the truth that almost matches his own even if hers is laced with a heavy dose of skepticism and skews toward the line of scientific probabilities.

He can’t help profiling her, a bad habit brought on by too much training, but he keeps his observations to himself for the most part. She’s incredibly intelligent, that much is obvious. The fact that she chose to teach at the academy instead of work primarily as a field agent is…not a surprise, but perhaps a bit of a waste of the obvious talent he has to admit she has. If he had to guess, he would say it had something to do with not wanting to get involved with the boy’s club of field work (not at all due to doubting her own abilities, no, he could never think that was the reason, not when she takes charge so easily and is such a natural in the field, to the point where he’s a little in awe really) and from his time as an agent, he can’t exactly blame her for that.

As the case goes on, he realizes that he might not actually mind having a partner, even one that may still be a spy, as long as that partner is her. He’s not sure what to make of that.

“I like her,” Sylvie murmurs in the dark once they’re back in his room after a long day of (bright lights, lost time, electricity surges) investigation. “Try not to scare this one off.”

The memory of Scully’s face when he’d started talking about lost time flickers into his mind. He pushes it away.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” Mulder replies, reaching a hand out to scratch behind her ears.

A few minutes later when Scully knocks on his door terrified of a few mosquito bites, he doesn’t even hesitate before asking her to stay. When he tells her about Samantha (not Sylvie though, never Sylvie because that’s for her to show or tell, not him) he closes his eyes and ignores Sylvie’s knowing stare.

 

After the first case, Sylvie and Alastair get close while neither of their counterparts are paying attention. When they start out, they're as wary of one another as their respective humans. Just a few weeks into their partnership though and the daemons are thick as thieves, huddling themselves away in corners or under desks even when their people are still maintaining what is for the most part a friendly but professional distance.

It's not a problem. It's not. It's just that whenever Alastair brushes up against or curls up with Sylvie, his stomach flips and he can't help but look at Scully and really, he looks at her too much anyway so extra looking is not helpful for the whole professional distance thing.

Sylvie says she looks at him just as much but he finds that hard to believe, even if sometimes when he looks up her hair is settling as if she'd just turned her head quickly...it's hard to believe because it's Scully, it's _Scully_ , brilliant and blazing and strong as iron and she could have anyone (not that they would deserve her because he can't think of anyone who would) so why would she look at him?

 

The thing about Sylvie is that she isn't settled. She spends most of her time as a fox, joking that if he's not going to let people use his first name she'll just have to make it really obvious, but technically she isn't settled. It's not something that's in his file (at least the last time he checked) and it's not something he goes around talking about, but he knows it's at least part of why they call him "Spooky."

Scully though, if Scully knows she never says anything. He can't decide whether he appreciates that or not.

The first time she sees Sylvie shift, it's because of Tooms. Mulder thinks he's never been more terrified than in that moment, bursting through the door to find her struggling with Tooms, Alastair caught in the grip of his python daemon. Sylvie shifts before he can even blink, screeching loudly as she scratches and pulls at Tooms' daemon with her new talons. It's enough of a distraction for Scully to get free and moments later Tooms is in custody and it's all over.

Sylvie stays an eagle throughout the cleanup process, checking over Alastair again and again just to be absolutely sure he's okay. Mulder doesn't notice Scully's curious look until he's running his fingers over Sylvie's plumage, his own form of silent assurance that _you did well, they're safe, we're fine_.

"She's beautiful," Scully says quietly, setting her hand on his arm. It takes everything in him not to jump.

Her eyes are curious, but there's also just curiosity, not the disgust or fear he's come to expect from people once they know. His voice sticks in his throat and when she lets her hand fall away, it feels like she's left a brand on his skin.

"Thank you, Sylvie," she and Alastair say at the same time. Sylvie does shift back to her fox form then, pausing to nuzzle Alastair one more time before making her way back to Mulder.

"Anytime, Dana."

After that, Sylvie shifts a little more frequently, at least in front of Scully. Whenever Mulder jokingly accuses her of showing off she just preens and sits closer to Alastair. Scully never asks about the specifics, but eventually he tells her anyway.

"When my sister was taken, something happened. I don't know what exactly, even now, but the next morning Sylvie looked up at me and said, “I don't think I'm ever going to settle, Fox” and I said that was just fine with me. And she hasn't and it's still fine with me."

"Did you think it would bother me?" Scully asks. "It doesn't. I can promise you that."

"It bothers most people," he replies. "Which is why she tries not to show people if she can help it. Most people..."

_Don't understand. Wouldn't want a partner like him, like them. Are afraid or judgmental or both._

Scully surprises him out of that train of thought by stealing the blanket on his lap and tucking her cold feet under his thigh. He can't help but grin.

"I'm not most people," she says once she has his attention again. "And...I'm glad I have the chance to work with the two of you."

"Careful there, Scully. Keep that up and I'll start to think you actually like me."

"Well, I like Sylvie," she teases. "And Alastair likes you. So I suppose you can't be too bad."

He laughs.

 

After everything with Tooms (the second time around) Scully is exhausted. Not just physically either. She can't help but think about the night before, about Mulder's eyes in the dim light from the car when she'd said his name, fear and hope warring in his gaze along with too many other things she wasn't, isn't, prepared to name.

And yet...when he'd gone into the escalator shaft after Tooms, it was as if her heart stopped and she barely breathed until he was back with her again. It had been close. Too close. Scully breathes out slowly and lets her head fall back against the seat. She's still in her car even though she arrived home almost an hour ago. She keeps replaying the whole night in her head, the past two nights if she's being honest.

_"Fox..."_

_"Sylvie's the only one who calls me Fox and that's only because she thinks it's funny." His voice shakes and it could be amusement but she's almost positive it's panic._

_"...could be love."_

_"Must be fate, Mulder."_

Something falls into her lap and she opens her eyes. It's Mulder's tie, the one he'd been wearing before he went after Tooms. From his position on the seat next to her, Alastair is giving her what she thinks is really an unfairly judgmental look.

"If you go over there to return it, you can see how he's doing," Alastair notes.

It's a ridiculous idea. It's a thin, painfully obvious excuse. But in the end, Scully turns the keys in the ignition and pulls away from the curb.

She almost talks herself out of it twice, first when she parks in front of his building, and then again when she's standing in front of his door.

Alastair makes up her mind for her, letting out a sharp bark and pawing at the door. She curses under her breath and glares down at her daemon, but it's too late. She hears footsteps approaching on the other side of the door and then it's opening and Mulder's looking down at her—why does he have to be so damn tall—and her voice leaves her, which is mostly fine because she didn't know what she was going to say anyway.

He has the look of someone who just got out of the shower, clothes sticking to skin as if he hadn't been completely dry when he'd thrown them on. His hair is wet, skin scrubbed pink and raw. She can't blame him for that; she did the same thing after her own close encounter with Tooms and she hadn't even been covered in whatever substance he secreted.

"Everything okay, Scully?" Mulder asks.

She clears her throat and nods. "Yeah, I just..."

There's a scratch on his forearm, not long but deep. He must have scrubbed at it too hard because fresh blood is welling up and pulling her attention.

"Mulder, you're bleeding."

"What? Oh." He looks down at his arm as if seeing the cut for the first time. "I guess I am."

Scully sighs, her lips twitching up against her will.

"Come on then," she says, stepping past him into the apartment. "Point me in the direction of your first aid kit and we'll get you fixed up."

He doesn't say anything (although it looks for a moment like he might), just nods and disappears into the bathroom for a minute, returning with the kit and handing it over as he settles on the couch. Scully sits next to him, ignoring the twist in her stomach that means Alastair has found Sylvie, and reaches for his arm. She's quiet as she cleans and bandages the cut. It's not bad, probably won't even scar, but it's an all too stark reminder that she could have lost him tonight.

"Well, doc? Am I going to live?"

She looks up at Mulder and his eyes are serious even though there's a smile playing around his lips.

"In my professional medical opinion? This time you will." She means for it to be lighthearted, but she can tell it falls flat.

_This time. This time you lived. This time I was fast enough, strong enough. This time._

"Scully..."

She shakes her head and looks away, busying herself with tidying the first aid kit, although that doesn't distract her from the weight of his eyes on her.

"Don't mind me," she replies, trying to keep the confusing mess of emotions she feels out of her voice. "You'll be fine."

"Dana."

That gets her attention. Scully looks back to Mulder only to find him much closer than he'd been before. He reaches for her, one hand curving around the side of her neck, his thumb tracing the edge of her jaw. She shivers.

"Why did you come here tonight?" His voice is low, and she swallows hard as her fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt.

He's too close. It's not a new thing really because Scully finds herself almost constantly wondering about his lack of adherence to what most people would consider normal personal space standards but at the same time this feels different. It's different because as often as he invades her space, she rarely pushes into his in the same way no matter how much she might want to. Now though, now she's very much in his space and she can feel the steady drumming of his heartbeat beneath her palm and he hasn't stopped touching her and he could have died...

"Scully?"

_I wouldn't put myself on the line for anyone but you._

She doesn't let go of his shirt, but she does shift back enough to put at least some distance between them. Why _had_ she come?

"I...I wanted to make sure you were okay," Scully admits. "And return this." She pulls the tie out of her pocket with her free hand and passes it over.

"My tie?" Mulder asks. He still hasn't stopped touching her. She's not sure she wants him to.

"You came all the way here in the middle of the night to return my tie?" There's a spark of amusement in his eyes, but when she nods he doesn't further call her on the flimsy excuse.

"Do you want to stay? We could...watch a movie or something." Mulder's tone is a cross between cautious and hopeful and when his thumb passes over the hollow beneath her jaw, her pulse leaps in answer.

She's almost positive he didn't mean 'or something' the way her mind took it but that doesn't stop her body from reacting, the barely-there pressure of his thumb setting her nerves alight, heat spreading out from his hand on her neck through the rest of her body.

She wants to kiss him.

It would be easy. She would just have to lean up and close the distance or, even better, use her grip on his shirt to tug him down.

Not for the first time she wonders how he would kiss. She knows what she wants—she wants the hot slide of his tongue against hers, wants to make him as desperate as she feels, wants his weight pressing her into the couch and his hands on her skin, hot and steady and teasing, wants to rake her nails down his back and mark him up so the whole world knows that _he's mine and you will not take him from me_.

_Could be love._

Her grip on his shirt tightens and for a long moment she honestly considers it, thinks about everything they've been through together, thinks about how good it would feel, how right...

"Fox..." For a split second she leans in, just for a second, and then she catches herself and sits back abruptly, releasing his shirt in the process.

"I should go."

His hand falls from her neck.

"Dana—"

"I should go," Scully repeats, standing and starting towards the door.

"Scully." Mulder doesn't follow her, but when she looks back, she imagines he looks almost disappointed.

"I'm glad you're okay," she says, shoving her suddenly shaking hands in her pockets. Adrenaline, her mind offers helpfully. "I'll see you at the office."

"Okay. Drive safe."

She manages a tight smile before closing the door behind her, Alastair right on her heels.

"You're a damn coward, Dana Scully," she whispers to herself once she's safely back in her car. Alastair, thankfully, says nothing.

 

They don't talk about it. Scully's not sure whether it's because both of them are too afraid of rocking the boat to mention it or whether there just isn't time. Either way it never comes up and the next thing she knows Mulder is being sent on a not-so-wild goose chase by Deep Throat and she's stealing government property to save him and then Deep Throat is dead and so are the X-Files.

After that, whenever she does see Mulder it's in secret meetings arranged through covert means and almost everything they say relates to the X-Files. Sometimes she wonders if things would be easier if she had just kissed him when she had the chance. If they were dating, maybe they wouldn’t be under quite so much suspicion. If they were dating, maybe they wouldn’t have to pull out cloak and dagger methods in order to interact on a more personal level.

Alastair reminds her of this often.

It’s both better and worse after she drags Mulder back from Puerto Rico with her heart in her throat. Because she sees him more often, even assists with some of his investigations, but it’s not the same as it was before and it hurts, it really does, to be conducting autopsies and identifying parasites and hearing his voice over the phone every day without being in the field with him, without being his partner.

The day he shows up in her lab with Alex Krycek and his mockingbird daemon Aesina, she has to tamp down on her emotions to keep from screaming. She settles for ignoring the other agent completely and giving Mulder a significantly unimpressed look over the tops of her glasses. The fact that he makes it very clear to her he did not ask for or want another partner (made even clearer by the way he ditches Krycek at every turn) is somewhat soothing.

She reserves the right to hate Krycek though. Aesina creeps Alastair out anyway, so that’s her excuse if anyone asks. Even Mulder. Maybe especially if Mulder asks.

Things only go downhill from there.

Scully suspects that something is off with Duane Barry from the minute Mulder calls to ask her to look into him. He doesn’t have a daemon, that’s the first thing she finds out. The second is that he used to. It doesn’t take much beyond that to convince her that the last place Mulder should be is in a room with him. The last place anyone should be is in a room with him.

Later, when he comes for her, the last thought she has before passing out is, _sometimes I hate being right_.

 

"Scully!" It's not only Mulder’s voice, but Sylvie's too, and he's terrified of what they're going to find when he finally reaches the top of the mountain.

"Scully!" The lights...he sees the lights and his heart stops. No.

When he gets to the clearing, Barry is laughing and Sylvie shifts into a tiger and knocks him to the ground, sitting on his chest to make sure he doesn't go anywhere while Mulder looks frantically around the clearing for any sign... There. Several feet away, a familiar form is lying in the grass.

"Alastair?" All he can hear is whimpers.

"They don't like daemons," Barry says, still laughing.

Sylvie growls loudly. Mulder thinks he wouldn't mind letting her rip his throat out.

"What does that mean, they don't like daemons?" He asks instead.

"It means they severed your partner when they took her. Be glad they didn't do it afterwards."

His blood runs cold.

"Fox," Sylvie calls. "Handcuff this fucker. I'll go see to Alastair."

If she lets her claws dig into Barry's chest a little as she gets up, well, it's been a long day. If he's a little rough when he pulls Barry's arms behind his back and cuffs them, he doesn't think anyone would blame him for that either.

When Sylvie comes back, she's carrying Alastair by the scruff of his neck. When the helicopters appear, she bares her teeth further as if daring anyone to try and take him from her.

Mulder allows himself to shut down on the way back to the base, replaying everything over and over. He could have put it together sooner, could have made sure Barry couldn't get out of the hospital, could have stayed with Scully after...

"She's alive," Sylvie assures, looking down at Alastair's still form where he’s tucked himself against the curve of her stomach. He'd stopped shaking, but he still hasn’t said a word. Mulder isn’t sure he could expect him to.

Everything happens quickly after that. Too quickly. Scenes blur together in his mind, Sylvie shifting again and roaring in Duane Barry's face, Barry dead on the floor just minutes after they'd left him alive, Krycek vanishing... At the end of it all, Scully's still missing and they have no leads.

He stares blankly at his closed office door after Skinner leaves, completely numb.

_“Let it go, Agent Mulder.”_

_“Like hell. Alastair is right there, you can see him yourself. He wouldn't be here if she wasn't still alive. He wouldn't. We can't just stop—”_

_“I said, let it go, Agent. That's an order.”_

When the glass paperweight shatters against the door, it takes Mulder a moment to realize that he'd been the one to throw it.

As if someone had flicked a switch, everything rushes back in again and it's too much, far too much. His chest feels tight and his hands are shaking and he can't breathe, _god, he can't breathe_ because she's gone and there's nothing he can do and if only he'd been a little faster maybe she would still be here and she wouldn't be severed and it's his fault, _all his fault_...

The whines cut through his haze first, high pitched and concerned. Still shaking, he swallows hard and closes his eyes, attempting to regulate his breathing. A small form jumps into his lap and his fingers tangle into fur unconsciously, entirely without hesitation. The longer his fingers stroke through the fur, the more the tightness in his chest loosens until finally he's back to a state of...well, not calm, but certainly closer to it than he was before.

It's a nose nudging at his foot that makes him open his eyes, and then he has to do a double take. Because Sylvie, she's at his feet, but if she's at his feet then...

Alastair whines again from his position in Mulder's lap and looks up at him with sad eyes. Mulder inhales sharply and moves to untangle his fingers from Alastair's fur, stilling when Scully's daemon says, "Please don't stop."

"I—" He doesn't want to, but it's wrong, isn't it? He shouldn't be touching Alastair, not when Scully's missing, not when he knows that she would never want...wouldn't she?

It doesn't _feel_ wrong though, even when he thinks it should, because Alastair is telling him to and god help him, he doesn't want to stop either.

"I need this too," Alastair adds, moving so he can settle into a more comfortable position.

Slowly, gently, Mulder begins to card his fingers through Alastair's coat once more. On the floor, Sylvie shifts into a large wolf and curls around his feet. The three of them together, they make do. It’s not perfect, couldn’t be without Scully there, but they make do.

The next day when he meets with Scully’s mother, he wonders if it would be more appropriate for Alastair to go with her, to be with family, but he barely gets halfway through asking before she’s shushing him and pressing Scully’s necklace into his hand. And that’s the end of that.

Other agents talk in hushed voices when Mulder walks through the halls with both Sylvie and Alastair, but he can’t bring himself to care. All agents take care of their partners. This is just another way for him to do that.

* * *

 

Waking up is a strange experience. Scully can't remember anything but Barry and the lights, a sharp pain, worse than anything she'd ever felt before...

She wakes up and she can't feel her bond with Alastair. But when she opens her eyes, he's curled up at her feet with Sylvie in wolf form wrapped around him.

Mulder is asleep in the chair at her bedside and he looks wrecked even in sleep, the deep shadows beneath his eyes betraying at least a few sleepless nights.

She doesn't want to wake him.

She considers it anyway. She has so many questions and he could answer at least some of them.

In the end she decides against it, but that doesn't stop her from moving her hand enough to set it in his where it lies on top of her sheets. When Scully wakes up again, his fingers are laced through hers and Alastair is lying on her chest. She squeezes Mulder's hand and pulls his attention.

"You look like crap," she croaks, her voice rough from disuse.

For a moment she thinks his eyes look wet, but then he blinks and clears his throat and the shine is gone.

"Still look better than you," he replies.

It hurts to smile, hurts more to laugh, but she does both because she's back and he's there, solid and familiar, and for the moment that's more than enough.

The weeks that follow are frustrating and difficult as Scully recovers and they finally start going into the field again. She’s on edge more often than not, the feeling that someone is watching her pervading her days. When it’s not that, it’s the thought that she’s not actually back at all and that it’s all a dream. The changed relationship between her and Alastair doesn’t help with that feeling.

Ironically, what helps the most with that side of things is something she never would have expected before her abduction. Mulder touches Alastair.

(He touches Alastair and after that, she no longer has any question about whether she still has at least some kind of bond with her daemon because it steals her breath and sets her blood on fire and she spends the rest of the day wondering what it would have felt like if she hadn’t been severed because it’s almost too much as it is)

They’re in the office when it happens.

Mulder is going over the list of potential case files and suddenly reaches down to scratch Alastair behind the ears. She gasps and has to steady herself against the desk because god, _god_.

The actual touch only lasts a moment because the second Scully makes a sound she sees his eyes widen and he pulls his hand back abruptly.

"Scully, I'm sorry, I—"

"It's okay, Fox," Alastair says from his feet. "Right, Dana?"

Heat floods her cheeks when Mulder looks over to her for assurance, but she isn’t angry or upset. If she had to guess she would say she probably looks close to how she had when she showed up at his apartment after Tooms. She certainly feels like she had the moment before she’d almost kissed him (and if she’s honest, she can’t say she’s not at least considering it now as well).

He’s looking at her expectantly though and with no small amount of concern, so she simply clears her throat and nods.

"Yes, it's fine. It's not a problem," she replies. Her voice is strange, even to her ears and her skin feels too warm and as if it’s stretched too tight over her bones. Her mind is unhelpfully pointing out scenarios in which they could repeat this little experiment (because god, she wants him to do it again, she really does) in a less professional setting.

"Are you okay?" Mulder asks despite her answer. "I really didn't mean—"

"I'm fine. Really.” So very fine. Having to remind herself that crossing the room and slipping into his lap would be highly inappropriate. But fine.

“Don't worry about it. I—I'll be right back." Because if she doesn’t leave, she genuinely might not be able to stop herself from dragging him across the carefully crafted line of professionalism they’ve drawn.

"Scully..."

"Mulder, really. It's okay. I just need some air."

Scully forces herself to leave the room, feeling his eyes on her the whole time. It takes nearly an hour for her pulse to stop racing.

 

Neither of them ever expect her to touch Sylvie. When she does it’s entirely by accident.

All four of them are sitting on the couch when it happens, the daemons settled on the cushion between them, and Scully reaches out to pet Alastair only for her fingers to brush Sylvie instead.

Mulder shivers, suddenly acutely aware of his surroundings despite having been dozing off only a few moments before. Heat curls low in his abdomen and he thinks he must make a sound because Scully immediately removes her hand from Sylvie's vicinity. He closes his eyes and swallows hard.

"Mulder, I—"

"Don't stop," he breathes, unable to stop the words from escaping. It's her turn to freeze then, her hand hovering in the air over Alastair and Sylvie, uncertainty flickering over her face.

"I...are you—"

"I want you to," he acknowledges. And god, it's the closest he's ever come to admitting anything to her face, isn't it?

He'd managed to brush off touching Alastair as something different. After all, she and Alastair are severed, maybe it isn't the same thing. He’s convinced himself it isn't the same thing. But him and Sylvie...he knows exactly what he's telling her when he says that.

She doesn't say anything else, but she lets her fingers curl into Sylvie's ruff and leaves them there until the end of whatever it is they were watching.

After that Scully touches Sylvie—or Sylvie touches Scully—on a regular basis. Mulder never says anything and neither does she, although Sylvie teases him about it endlessly in private.

"You could just tell her how you feel you know," she says late at night when he's too tired to argue. "Chances are good she already knows but is just waiting for you to say it."

"Oh yeah? How do you figure that, huh?"

Sylvie nips his ear in retaliation.

"I have eyes, idiot. And it's not just me. Alastair knows too."

"I can't...Sylvie, I can't."

She huffs and nips his ear again, although more gently than before. "Just think about it."

 

Feelings aside, things are…mostly okay. And then they get their next case.

"Something's wrong," Sylvie says as soon as they're alone.

"With this case? I know. We're looking for a fetishist, of course there's something wrong."

"With Dana," she clarifies. "She's not okay. Alastair's twitchy too but he's still doing much better than her. You didn't see her face at the station."

"She said she was fine." Admittedly it had sounded like a bad excuse even when she'd said it.

Sylvie snorts derisively. "And that means you're going to sit back and do nothing?"

"What it means is that I'm going to keep giving her outs and hoping she either takes them or talks to me. But I'm not going to push her to talk either, not when it might do more harm than good."

_Not when it might push her further away._

Mulder sighs and rakes his fingers through his hair in frustration.

"I trust her," he says finally. "She'll let me in when she's ready. She always does."

He'd never intended for it to be an actual case. He knew going in that it was a case more suited to violent crimes than anything else, and even then only once it actually escalated. It was supposed to be a break, practically a vacation. He'd gotten football tickets for goodness sake. It was going to be...well, he didn't know exactly what but it was meant to be something.

It turned into an actual case though and Scully is understandably twitchy (except that he's not sure her twitchiness is related to the case at all which is what worries him) and he hadn't ever wanted her to be in the position of having to deal with a case like this—the type of case that's hard on even the most seasoned violent crimes agent—not because she can't hack it but because it should have been her choice as to whether she wanted to try.

He feels like he's taken that away from her and he hates that.

As the case goes on, he watches Scully unravel more and more until finally she leaves and he breathes a little easier. When she comes back, only to be taken by Pfaster, Mulder spends the entire time until they find her feeling like he could scream.

When he does find her, just in time, he doesn’t hesitate a moment before letting her fall into his arms. He doesn’t ask, doesn’t feel like he has to, just kisses her hair as he holds her close while Alastair and Sylvie curl up together at their feet. And for the moment it’s enough.

Life goes on.

Samantha returns, only it's not Samantha, not really, and Sylvie tries to tell him but he wants so badly to believe...

Scully is taken again, this time by a man wearing Mulder’s face, and Sylvie shifts between forms every few seconds as he struggles to keep even the most tenuous of holds on his control.

Something green and toxic bubbles up from the bullet hole in the clone assassin's chest and his world spins. Before he blacks out he thinks he hears Sylvie screaming.

When he wakes up, Scully's asleep. One of her hands is tangled in Sylvie's fur, as if she's worried letting go would cause them to slip away. Her other is being used by Alastair as a pillow from where he's huddled in the crook of Mulder's arm.

His throat feels raw and when he tries to speak all that comes out is a quiet cough. Scully snaps awake anyway, but when she goes to remove her hand from Sylvie, he reaches out to cover her hand with his.

It's difficult to keep his eyes open, so he lets them close again, but not before linking his fingers through hers.

"Scully..."

"Don't say anything," she replies. "Don't...just go back to sleep. You almost died today, your body could use the rest."

He want to argue but he can't summon the energy, especially not when she reaches out with her free hand to comb her fingers through his hair.

"Dana..."

Alastair shifts and rests his head on Mulder's chest. Scully's thumb traces the curve of Sylvie's ear and he wants to tell her to never stop, to never leave, but the words stick in his throat. He wonders if she knows anyway.

"I'll be right here, Fox."

He thinks she might.

 

_"Would you say agent Mulder confides in you, Agent Scully?"_

Scully steps out of the meeting— _witch hunt, ambush, tribunal_ , her brain whispers—and feels like she's going to be sick.

"Dana," Alastair says softly. She shakes her head sharply and her daemon quiets.

_Not here. It's not safe here._

She should have asked more questions that morning when Mulder showed her the files. He hadn't been acting like himself. He was manic, out of control, and Sylvie shifted at least three times during the brief period they were in his office. And then for him to go off and take a swing at Skinner...no, something was very wrong.

_"Would you lie to protect him?"_

Yes. She already had. She would again, a thousand times over if it would protect him, but she does want more answers now because if she's going to lie for him he at least owes her the courtesy of explaining what she's lying for.

Of course, when she goes to his apartment she only ends up with more questions. Mulder's exhausted and sick and caustic, none of which help the waves of concern she feels. Sylvie's stopped shifting so much but she also looks sick. When Alastair gets close, she snaps at him, only further confirming how wrong everything is.

Scully's determined to get to the bottom of...whatever this is.

She doesn't get the chance.

Someone shoots through his window and the next moment he's calling her to say someone's murdered his father and god help her, if it weren't for the fact that she'd just almost been shot herself she might spend more time wondering if he hadn't done it. As it is, she hates the fact that the thought even crosses her mind.

He arrives at her apartment feverish, bloodstained, and wracked with grief and when he reaches for her, collapsing into her, she doesn't know whether to hold him or force him to lie down.

When he presses his face to her neck she has to close her eyes for a moment as a wave of emotion crashes over her. She doesn't want to let him go. She wants to wrap her arms around him and just let him know it's okay to fall to pieces, that she'll stay as long as he needs. She doesn't. Instead she makes him lie down and does the best she can to help his fever.

(She's a doctor. She's good at the physical things)

After he falls asleep, she watches him for what seems like hours before Alastair breaks the silence of the room.

"You should have his gun tested," he says quietly.

Scully looks over sharply.

"If I take his gun, he's going to think I don't trust him. He'll think I think he killed his father. Is that what you want?"

Alastair sighs heavily. "Of course not. But Dana..."

_But what if he did?_

"It could also clear him," the daemon offers.

Of course it could. That's purely logical. Which is exactly what she tells herself when she takes his gun from its holster and quietly slips out the door. If she feels sick to her stomach, well, that could be from any number of things.

Of course, as soon as her phone rings a few hours later, she regrets everything.

Well, no. Not everything. But definitely the way she went about it no matter what justifications she makes for herself while she's on the phone with him.

"You have my files and you have my gun. Don't ask me for my trust."

The sound of the dial tone when he hangs up feels like a punch to the stomach She spends the next several minutes leaning heavily against the wall outside the ballistics lab cursing herself under her breath.

True to form, things get worse before they get better.

Scully shoots him and then, once she manages to get Mulder in the car, she drives for nearly two days straight to get to New Mexico. Whenever he wakes up (although it isn’t often given the sedatives she’s plied him with to wait out the psychosis) she tries to make sure he drinks water, but he's never fully lucid and her efforts are rarely successful.

Throughout the entire drive all she can think about is that she shot him. It was the only thing she could have done, but she hates herself for it anyway. She hates every single part of the past several days if she’s honest with herself.

_"Don't ask me for my trust."_

Just thinking about it makes her flinch. Whether it was the drug-induced paranoia talking or not, hearing Mulder say that had cut her deeply. And if he'd actually meant it (she didn't think he had but she wouldn't completely deny the possibility) a bullet through his shoulder wouldn't have helped matters.

When they finally arrive at their destination and Scully gets out of the car she has to close her eyes for a moment against a wave of dizziness and steady herself against the door. She's just glad she has help with her partner now because moving him had been difficult enough when she hadn't been exhausted.

They lay Mulder down in a guest bedroom and he doesn't even stir when Scully checks the wound in his shoulder and bandages it again. When she finishes, she can't help herself from running her fingers through his hair, combing back the strands that have stuck to the sweat on his forehead.

Alastair whines when she goes to leave so she stops in the doorway and looks back at the bed, considers the tightness in her chest at the thought of something happening in the middle of the night without her there...and decides to stay. Scully doesn't do much more than kick off her shoes before slipping into the bed next to her partner, curving into his uninjured side. She's asleep almost as soon as she closes her eyes.

She wakes up to Sylvie nosing at her hand and sees Mulder looking down at her with half-open eyes that are blessedly clear.

"You shot me," he says quietly. He doesn't look upset though and he doesn't move away from her either even though she's still pressed close against his side.

"You were paranoid and drugged and about to commit a murder. I didn't have a choice," she replies. "If it helps at all, I didn't enjoy it."

The corners of his mouth turn up. "Not even a little bit? That's a surprise."

Scully has to hold back a flinch.

"It was the hardest thing I've ever had to do," she says, her eyes glued to a small stain on the sheet because it's easier than looking at him.

_The hardest thing I've ever done and I never want to make you bleed ever again, not ever, so don't you dare joke about it because I can't—_

Mulder's smile drops and his good arm tucks around her shoulders, anchoring her solidly against his side.

"Hey," he murmurs, his fingers playing lightly with the ends of her hair. When Scully glances up again his eyes are soft.

"I'm sorry. I didn't think."

"It's fine," she replies. "I've just...the last few days have been very...trying."

He leans down to press a kiss to her hair, but as distracting as that is she doesn't miss the flicker of pain that crosses his face. Scully slips out from under his arm, pressing her palm to his chest in reassurance when he reaches after her.

"I'm just going to take a look at your shoulder," she acknowledges.

_I'm not going anywhere._

“So, what’s the plan?” Mulder asks after a long moment of silence.

She’s saved from having to answer directly by the arrival of Albert Hosteen. After that, whatever peace they’d managed to achieve vanishes, replaced by the renewed tension surrounding the files and what they might uncover. Unfortunately (or maybe fortunately since she’s not sure how helpful she can be here) she can’t stay for long.

“I have to go back,” Scully admits once Albert leaves the room again. “I missed a meeting with Skinner and the other directors yesterday.”

"You've taken a big risk,” Mulder says quietly. The look in his eyes is soft and she has to look away.

"I was certain they would have killed you, Mulder."

He opens his mouth to speak but seems to think better of it, turning towards the bathroom instead to get dressed. She turns to leave as well, but stops at the door when she hears his voice.

"Thank you. Thank you for taking care of me. Of both of us,” he acknowledges with a nod toward Sylvie.

It takes a moment for Scully to find her voice. There’s a new tension in the air and she’s struck with the urge to tell him everything that she feels, that she’s worried about herself and what it means that her name is in the files, that she’s afraid for him. She wants to make him promise to come home to her.

She doesn’t.

Hours later when she gets the news that Mulder’s missing, presumed dead, she wishes she had. Alastair climbs into her lap and whispers that he’s still alive, that Sylvie’s alive, that he would know if she wasn’t, that they just have to believe. So she lets herself believe. And she prays.

When Mulder does come back, Scully’s first thought is that she could kiss him for his timing. Her second isn’t so much a thought as it is a flood of relief so strong that if she weren’t focused on aiming a gun at Skinner, she might have been knocked off her feet.

When they step into the hallway, relief is replaced with urgency and as strongly as she hadn’t been able to make herself speak back in New Mexico, she can’t help herself now.

She looks him over, wanting to reach out and touch but not allowing herself to, in good part because she's pretty sure if she touches him right now she's never going to let go.

"Mulder, I—"

It's probably good that he interrupts her because she's not entirely sure what words were going to follow that.

"Scully, whatever you're going to say—"

_Wait. It's not the right time. There's too much going on to think about...whatever this is._

"I went to your father's funeral," Scully says instead. "I told your mother that you were going to be okay."

"How did you know?"

_Because you had to be okay. I needed you to be okay._

"I just knew."

She walks past him into the elevator and he follows close behind. She doesn't look at him as he presses the button, instead bending down to run her fingers through Sylvie's fur, smiling when the daemon arches into her hand and Mulder inhales sharply.

"You just knew?" He repeats. When she meets his eyes, they’re full of questions and promise and hope and it should make her want to run but she doesn’t.

"I believed," she replies, straightening up when he steps close enough that she has to tip her head back to look up at him (too damn tall, it's ridiculous, no one needs to be that tall).

It feels like they're on the edge of a cliff, somewhere they've been before but have always pulled back from, and she wants to fall. She wants them both to fall together.

"In me." Mulder's hands hover next to her waist as if he's afraid the moment will shatter if he actually touches her.

She thinks she might shatter if he doesn't.

"In you."

_I will always believe in you._

She doesn't have to say anything else. His hands settle on her waist as she lifts up on her toes and then he's kissing her, soft and slow and sweet, and she shudders at the gentleness of it, too much and not enough all at once.

"Fox, I—"

_I love you. I can't lose you. I can't._

He kisses her again and it steals her breath.

"I know," he breathes. "Me too."

They don’t talk about it, but there’s a change in the air after that, as if the knowledge that she can just reach out and touch him, kiss him if she chooses, is a physical hum. They go to the Lone Gunmen and Scully finds out about her sister. She almost loses it then, but Mulder pulls her back. He always pulls her back.

They go to visit Victor Klemper and the way he looks at her makes her skin crawl. Sylvie and Alastair bare their teeth the entire time and Mulder’s hand rests on her lower back, out of the scientist’s view, as a quiet reminder that she’s okay.

They go to West Virginia, to the facility Klemper directed them to, and the vault full of medical records sends a chill up her spine and twists her stomach. Mulder doesn’t seem much better.

And then Skinner shows up again.

“I’m planning on making a deal. The tape for your reinstatement.”

Even as Mulder shuts down the idea, Scully’s mind starts turning. What are they doing really? What could they possibly accomplish like this, on the run like fugitives without even the real protection of a badge? How long can they live like this? Perhaps more importantly, how much longer is Melissa going to live?

Her fingers tangle in Alastair’s fur like it’s an anchor, her other hand moving to rest on Mulder’s knee beneath the table, the touch cutting him off mid-sentence.

“I think we should take the deal,” Scully says and although there’s frustration and a hint of betrayal in the way Mulder is looking at her, Sylvie emanates compassion and understanding.

“It’s your call,” he finally replies after a short-lived argument. When he walks away, she doesn’t follow, no matter how much she might want to. He’ll realize she’s right if she gives him a few minutes alone.

And he does. When she and Skinner walk outside, he looks resigned and regretful but the betrayal is gone.

“I told Skinner to take the deal, but not to hand over the tape until you agree to it,” Scully murmurs once Skinner has gotten into the car.

Mulder is quiet for a long moment, but when he finally looks at her, she can see her own need to touch him reflected in his eyes.

“I’m sorry about your sister, Scully,” he says.

“I just need to know that she’s okay.”

He nods and his hand comes up as if he’s going to touch her, but drops back to his side when his eyes flick towards where Skinner is waiting in the car.

Scully thinks she doesn’t care what Skinner might think of them, but if Mulder does, she can live with that. If this deal works out, they’ll both be back at the Bureau, still partners, still…whatever else they are.

Of course, as soon as she’s through rationalizing that, he changes his mind.

"Scully, wait."

In three strides he's crossed to her and then his mouth is on hers and all she can do is grip the front of his shirt and hold on.

It's not a gentle kiss. It's desperate and at least a little rough and if she's honest it's what she always imagined their first kiss would be like. It's the kind of kiss that makes her think if her sister wasn't in the hospital she might just push him back inside and up against the nearest flat surface.

(Of course, if Melissa wasn't in the hospital she wouldn't be leaving him at all but she has to go, _she has to_ , and she hates that it feels a little like a betrayal after everything they've learned over the past few days because she knows he understands and she's not sorry but she still hates that these people, whoever they are, put her in this position at all)

He starts to pull away and she tugs him back to her. When her teeth catch his lower lip he makes a sound that sends her mind spinning (she makes a note to explore that later) and slides a hand into her hair.

She kisses him again and again and it's _I'm sorry_ and _we'll make them pay_ and _this is not the end_ and he returns every one with _I know, I know, I know_.

When Scully finally pulls away she can feel his reluctance to let her go, but eventually he presses one last kiss to the top of her head and steps back.

"Go," he murmurs.

"Mulder, I—"

"I know."

Skinner gives her a long look when she gets in the car, but she just meets his gaze head-on, practically daring him to say anything. After a moment, he snorts and shakes his head before pulling out of the parking lot. There really isn’t anything to say anyway.

Days later, when everything is mostly back to normal and Melissa is alive and slowly recovering, Scully leaves the hospital and goes to Mulder’s apartment.

“So. We lost the tape,” she says hours after her arrival when they’re stretched out on the couch, his arms around her and her head on his shoulder, Sylvie and Alastair on the floor.

“We lost the tape,” he acknowledges, holding her closer.

“What now?”

“We keep doing what we’ve always done. Search for the truth.”

And that really is the answer. It’s all they can do.

As she presses her lips to his pulse, Scully thinks maybe searching for the truth isn’t the worst thing her life could have come to. In fact, it might just be the best.

**Author's Note:**

> I blame shu for all of this. 
> 
> Title from Science & Faith by The Script


End file.
